Eyes to See

While Blanca is posting all sorts of information on the countries we will be visiting or pertinent information like finally getting our flights booked, the blogs I have been composing in my head all seem to fall under the category of the Liz Embarrassment Hour.  For some reason, I can’t seem to write without sharing the progression of thought that got me there… so, here goes…

Last night I was sitting at home alone reading the teeny bopper bestseller Twilight.  If you don’t hang out with middle schoolers daily like I do, well, let me just quote the book/back cover so you can get a feel for it.

About three things I was absolutely positive.  First, Edward was a vampire.  Second, there was a part of him–and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be–that thirsted for my blood.  And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

I hate to admit this, but as this 33 year old sat there reading, there stirred within me a longing to be that silly teenage girl.  In my defense, what woman doesn’t want to be rescued by a impossibly beautiful, super-humanly strong, possibly dangerous man?  I tried to refocus, thinking of how Jesus is much like Edward in the book…He’s beyond beautiful…He’s rescued us…He’s all powerful & yet we don’t know what danger He might lead us into.  It’s helpful to write now, but honestly, in the moment it didn’t do much good to recite to myself.  We’re wired to long for a hero as women, aren’t we?

Anyway, I woke up this morning, not thinking about Jesus, but the book.  I made coffee and sat down to read my Bible although I really wanted to read the book.  I opened up to Isaiah wondering why I bothered as God must be fed up with me & my longings for the things of the world above Himself.  I read Isaiah 49:8–I will keep you, and I will appoint you to be a covenant for the people, to restore the land, to make them possess the desolate inheritances.

And something broke within me.  I will keep you… to restore

I thought of Psalm 119: 20  My soul breaks with longing

There’s something within me beneath my desire to be happy and comfortable, far above my hopes and dreams for my own future that aches and groans and cries out for the restoration of good and right and justice.  It hurts.  It’s painful because all is not as it should be.  Not in my heart.  Not in our world.  It hurts.  It’s painful because I want things to be different.  I want–that seems such a weak word– my soul breaks with longing to be a part of that restoration.  It hurts.  It’s painful because in those moments, in His mercy, He swallows up my shallow longings in the depths of His.